buttery shortbread

tastes best when shared. he assures

my package of love.

A christmas stocking is not complete without some Walkers shortbread.  Don't get me wrong, there's some amazing shortbread companies out there - but at Christmas, I want the walkers.  Bob always finds some for me, and we share it as we transition out of the holidays and back into real life.  It's the last Sunday of our "vacation".  Tomorrow, we're back at work.

I grumble and complain a lot in this blog.  Unintentional.  I think it's the only place I can really share all the ugly feelings I have, though.  The stress, the worry, the fucking resentment and frustration.  Everywhere else I'm the paver - paving his way, making sure nothing is a big deal, slapping on smiles or advocating for him.  I'm a super-great wife, in my own opinion. 

Today was a rough start to a day - it involved more body fluids than it had a right to, escalating into pain and doctor's virtual visits and a run to the pharmacy.  He's still in pain - but decreasing down into discomfort.  2 p.m. on a Sunday before returning to work and I'm blogging, thinking about a walk, and trying not to worry.  I'm not looking forward to his bedtime routine, tonight, not that I ever do - but tonight especially.  Sticking a tube up someone's wiener is brutal enough without an infection attached.

I ordered some driveway salt and wiper blades today from a local big box store that I happen to work at.  Waiting for that to come in since my wipers fell apart the other day and it's snowing here and I hate driving our wheelchair van.  Nothing says "life is not worth living" like a 13 year old beige wheelchair van.  Functional, yes.  Fun, no.

What's with employee engagement?

I looked at my email and saw I was invited to a 90 minute session on health and wellness to improve my engagement.  I've no words to describe how badly misunderstood I feel right now.